Remind Us Lest We Forget
by Ryla Dante
Summary: Four year old Dean sees something at the foot of his bed, is it simply a dream or much more? Just a short Wee!Chester story based on a nightmare I had as a child...with a very nice twist ending. Please enjoy!


A/N: Okay this is a Wee!Chester story based on a nightmare I had as a four year old...I changed a few things to make it more 'winchester appropriate' including an interesting twist...hope ya like it!! I typed it out awfully fast so if it sounds like gobbledy gook, then yeah...you know the reason!

Disclaimer: Kripke owns SPN and all those entailed...I just like to play with them until he tells me I can no longer do that. Until then, Party on Garth!!

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The four year old looked up at his mother as she tucked him. Her blonde hair layered around her youthful face, a smile dancing on her thin lips. Dean reached up to her wanting his nightly hug and as she saw the look on her son's face, there way she could refuse. Gripping her tightly, Dean could smell her vanilla lotion and raspberry shampoo. He inhaled deeply then pulled back. Mary kissed him gently on the forehead, her smile widening.

"Mommy, I am glad the stork brought me a brother. 'Cept for the fact he cries a lot, he is pretty cool."

Mary giggled then squeezed his nose. He swatted at her but giggled just the same. Turning out his bed side lamp, but making sure his night light was lit she turned telling him goodnight and exited the room. Dean rolled over and closed his eyes, a full night's rest ahead of him.

A few hours later Dean felt something bang into his bed waking him. Ignoring it, assuming it was just a dream he slipped back to sleep. A moment later he felt what seemed like an intense warmth all around him. It was after all the beginning of November so he just sloughed it off to the heater kicking on. Trying to fall back asleep Dean noticed that the heat came and went in steady streams as if something large were breathing on him. Now if he had been older and bigger he would have leapt from the bed and turned his lamp on, but at only four that was not an option. Instead he froze his heart almost stopping in his chest. As he lay there he realized that his head was uncovered and that whatever was standing or hovering over him could see him. That scared him worse than the fact that this thing was breathing on him, so in a panicked moment he yanked the covers over his head and flopped onto his back breathing just as hard as the creature.

Now quite some time had passed before Dean had even considered the fact that what he had done could have angered this thing, or that maybe he was still dreaming even. A four year old's mine could rationalize only so far before it began to slip over into the realm of imagination. A terrifying thought at that very moment. Could the movies his dad let him watch when his mother was not home have seeped into his sub-conscious and caused this hallucination to appear or was there really truly some other-worldy being breathing hellfire at his feet? Since his eyes were slammed tighter that a manhole cover, he had no earthly way of knowing.

Opening them just a smidge, he could see just the makings of the material past his lashes. The interwoven fabric danced wickedly since he was now shaking. Overtop this thick layer was a thinner green sheet. The heat was immense and it was not letting up any time soon. Dean gulped, and found that his throat was dryer than the Mojave. Licking at his lips proved to be a harder task. His tongue stuck to the left of his top lip. So he instead bit his bottom lip and could taste the coppery essence of blood on his tongue.

He lay that way for seconds but to his youthful mind it was more like hours. Finally getting up the courage to see more, he lowered the blanket a few inches. That was when he realized he had made a fatal error in judgement. Ahead of him was a dark figure shrouded in the night, the only thing to be seen of it were it eyes. They were a bright yellow and stared at him as if her were a meal to be devoured right then and there. The being continued to breathe, it's inferno pouring down on the young child like a tidal wave. Dean so wanted to melt into the mattress but even if he could it would have been fruitless for he was too mortified to even blink. The thing, as odd as it seemed, did not blink either. This made Dean wonder if he were dreaming and that the strange manifestation was a twisted mirror image of him. After tonight he would swear off horror flicks once and for all.

The beast never took it's glowing orbs off Dean. It's intense and somehow knowing looks caused Dean to shake even worse. His heart beat nearly out of his chest and he prayed that daylight was just around the bend. Glancing to his right, he saw that it was barely after nine o'clock. There was no way he would wait around for the next nine hours in this position, fixed like a statue. He would have to man up and face this thing one way or another. That was when a thought struck him. Maybe if he called for his mother then she would shoo the beat away saving him from getting eaten, or worse, mortal embarrassment. Watching the creature as he did what he would later believe to be the most foolish thing ever, he yanked the sheet off his head and screamed for his mother, or at least, tried.

Dean opened his mouth, his lips forming the word, yet not even a croak, a peep or an utterance resounded in the small room. His voice box was locked and he had somehow lost the key. Now was not the most convenient time to go mute. Dean scanned the edge of the bed once more, and the being seemed to actually be smiling. It never moved, never spoke, did nothing but breathe, but that glimmer of narcissistic behaviour gave Dean the ammunition he needed. Turning back to face the door he screamed again, and this time the word slipped out, low at first with a hint of a dry crackle. But as he journeyed on the path of courageousness, the sound became higher and much longer. Before he realized it, he was on his feet and yelling for his mother. Dashing out the door he looked back to see, whatever it was, still smiling yet never stepping foot from the end of his bed. Dean ignored that little tidbit and almost flew down the stairs.

In the living room his parents were sitting watching TV in the dark. His father was in his chair half asleep yet when Dean rushed in he sprang to his feet. Dean slammed into his father and they both nearly tumbled to the carpet. Mary leapt from the couch as she saw the horrified look on her four year old's face. He was pale and sweating profusely. It alarmed her immensely.

"Dean, what's..."

John started to speak, but the boy cut him off. Dean started ranting and raving about something horrible at the foot of his bed, that there was a monster in his room, a creature with yellow eyes that wanted to eat him. John chuckled despite the fact that his son sounded like a raving lunatic yet Mary looked concerned. She suggested that he take Dean back to his room to look although John believed that it was merely a nightmare, and a very vivid one at that. Dean hesitated not wanting to see that thing ever again. So John climbed the stairs while Dean waited at the foot. As his father entered his room, whatever it was that had emerged and interrupted his beauty sleep, somehow slipped past his father without him noticing and managed its way into his little brother's room. Dean gasped not sure what he was seeing. The being had finally moved and now it was after Sammy. Just as he was about to race up the stairs to relay this to his father John exited the room shaking his head.

"Nothing there son, now come on and go back to sleep. You got Larry Tully's party tomorrow and screaming your head off like that, I am surprised Sammy is still asleep."

Dean protested but allowed himself to be tucked back into his bed. Whatever it was had disappeared and taken its terror with him into Sam's room. Dean hoped he had only seen it all and that maybe it all really was a dream. Turning to face the door he tried hard to stay awake, to try to keep an eye on his baby brother's door, but alas it was futile. Having night terrors can really take it out of you.

A few hours later Dean was awoken by a scream coming from his brother's room. He sat up straight and waited. Then he heard another, this one being his father's. Leaping from the bed and falling flat on his face, he kicked he blanket from his feet and trudged for the door. Suddenly the barrier crashed open and his father stood there with little Sammy in his arms. He was scanning the darkness for something, yet not sure if he could ever find it. Dean stood in the hall wondering what had happened and in a split second forgot all about his dream. His father rushed up to him thrusting the baby into his arms yelling for him to leave the house, to take care of Sammy. He could barely think, could barely focus on anything. He father shoved him forward and finally he nodded running down the stairs as he heard another scream. His father yelled his mother's name in an octave that was beyond the young boy's comprehension. Dean shuttered as he rounded the stair landing and tripped over the rug nearly taking them both down. Recovering he slammed into the front door, reaching for the lock. The first one was easy to make, but the chain and bolt was a bit higher. He struggled, this being harder with a baby in his left arm. Finally after three attempts he yanked the chain free and pulled the door free. Fleeing from the house he rushed onto the front lawn and before he even took three steps the upstairs windows exploded and fire shot out like a thunder bolt and smoke filled the sky turning it blacker than the wings of a crow. Sammy gurgled but surprisingly never cried. A moment later John bulleted from the house knocking into his sons and pushed them away from the tragedy that had just unfolded.

Bolting upright on his bed Dean screamed. Sam flicked on the bed side lamp and caught the shaking figure that was his brother. He was shaking and sweating. His eyes were open wide and his arms were splayed at his sides. He looked terrified about something yet Sam could see nothing to suggest that there had been anything in the room that would have caused his brother this kind of distress. Pushing himself from his bed, Sam grabbed his brother and looked into the eyes that seemed to stare off into nothing. Dean jumped at the touch and yanked his arms back.

"I saw him Sammy, I saw him that night."

The words slipped passed Dean's lips like water in a cive. He could not stop them before they escaped and now it was too late. Sam stared at his brother wondered what he meant. Sam questioned his brother on that exact thing and was astonished at the answer he received.

"Azazel Sam, I saw him the night mom died. I thought, I thought it was all a dream. But he came to me only hours before she died. I told them about it, but I don't think they believed me."

Sam pulled back. The shock was more than his mind could take. His own brother had seen the yellow eyed daemon the night he killed their mother and never mentioned it to him all these years. Sam understood there were many things Dean never told anyone, but this was one thing that seemed rather pertinent. Dean still shook his nerves on the very edge of breaking. He gripped his hands together and stared at the mattress and cringed. The sheet was green and it made his stomach twinge. To think he might have been able to stop it, to ward off the evil son of bitch if only he had not been so utterly terrified. Yet again being four was a problem. He looked up at Sam whose face said it all. Dean had been harbouring his emotions and other such demons of his own lately and then he just drops this one the kid's doorstep like that. He was bound to be a little pissed.

"Dean, are you saying that you actually saw the bastard that killed mom? The yellow eyed freak that you slaughtered in Wyoming? That beast?"

Dean could only nod. He was afraid that if he said anything Sam would take it the wrong way as he often did and that would end in an enormous fight and neither of them needed that at this juncture. Sam rubbed his chin and pondered the idea for a moment then glanced back at his brother who could barely look him in the eye. Sam raised a hand causing Dean to pull back. Instead of it turning into a fist and socking him in the jaw, it rested on his shoulder and gripped it tight. Sam looked genuinely concerned for his brother.

"Look, it wasn't your fault. You were only four. There was nothing anyone could have done even if you had seen him a year before. Things happened for a reason and I don't blame you for that. So if you even think about doing that, stop it. Cause it is stupid and reckless. You saved my ass that night, and that is all that matters. No matter the outcome, you're my big brother and I will cherish that thought, and that thought alone."

Dean smiled and gripped his brother's hand. The images of the fresh nightmare began to fade leaving the memories locked back in his sub-conscious where they belonged.


End file.
